


Enough To Slake My Thirst

by SleepySappho



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Adora Has An Allergy To Non-Magikat Blood, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blindfolds, Canon Lesbian Character, Consensual Mind Control, F/F, Fingersucking, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Horny Perfuma Rights, Hurt/Comfort, Lesbian Catgirl, Lesbian Vampires, Light Angst, Light Dom/sub, Look Adora Look With Your Special Eyes, Romance, Scent Kink, Seizures, Smut, Surprisingly Sweet For A Vampire Smutfic, That Sweet Vampire On Catgirl Action I Know You All Crave, Vaginal Fingering, Vampire Bites, Vampire Capri Suns, Vampire Fang Boners, Vampires Need Chew Toys Sometimes Okay, Vampiric Mesmerism, eating disorder adjacent content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:49:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25471159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepySappho/pseuds/SleepySappho
Summary: Adora struggles to control her thirst in the presence of overwhelming temptation
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 79
Kudos: 701





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Don't worry I haven't given up on You Do Not Have To Be Good or anything like that, I just decided to knock out some vampire smut to help get my creative juices flowing after being frustrated with the emotional meat grinder I'm putting myself through on that fic all week. This is probably gonna end up as a two-shot at most, if I ever come back to it. I just think vampires are neat ya know.

Adora takes her drink from the bartender, tries not to grimace as she sips. It tastes like ash.

It always does.

Still, even if the flavors of a mortal palette bring her no pleasure, the alcohol will do its work just the same. She can already feel it beginning to work its way into the blood sluggishly pulsing through her veins. It's a slow, delayed way for her to pursue intoxication, but still potent. She needs to be careful not to drink too much before it begins to affect her, or she's likely to end up spilling the contents of her stomach on someone's shoes again, and apparently humans find the sight of someone vomiting blood rather distressing. 

Not that she's had any, recently. It's been almost two weeks since she tore into one of the bags of treated blood that Mara procures for her, longer than is strictly good for her. Mara would give her an earful if she knew, telling her to look after herself better, that Adora's not as invincible as it might seem. She wouldn't try to guilt Adora, though, lecture her about how hard it is to obtain the blood that keeps her alive, call her ungrateful. Adora appreciates that.

She knows how important regular feeding is, she really does. It's just… difficult for her to care when it does so little to satisfy her cravings. Even when she uses the sous vide machine Glimmer bought her to heat the packs to the temperature of a living body it just _tastes_ wrong. Sickly sweet and syrupy, not the rich, savory, flavor she always hopes for, the one she remembers. 

The scent of it used to drive her wild. Sometimes, just being in the same room as _her_ was enough to make Adora lose control. She feels guilty about that, even if she knows she didn't have a choice she could have at least let her victim retain some dignity, could have at least _pretended_ not to enjoy it. But… letting go like that, giving into the thirst and (she now recognizes) _lust_ that overwhelmed her at the scent or her favorite victim had simply felt too _good_ to resist. Her life at that place had been almost entirely devoid of pleasure, of affection or intimacy or any species of happiness. Even now, even though she knows how _wrong_ it is to still think of _her_ that way, those memories of _her_ still bring a smile to Adora's face. Usually a sharper one than usual. 

She indulges in them now, closes her eyes and feels the burn of the alcohol, thinks about the way _her_ blood would feel sliding down her throat, coating every surface with the taste, lingering in Adora's mouth, on her _tongue_ for days afterwards, the way she could lick her teeth and catch a brief hint, a memory of the feeding. 

It wasn't just the blood of course. Everything about _her_ appealed to Adora. It hasn't been that way at first, when they were children, it was just a means to end, a method of survival. But things started to change as they grew older. Adora started to _notice_ things more, the feeling of fur pressed against her face when she buried her fangs into that soft skin, the way the first rush of blood into her mouth was always matched by a rush of liquid heat between her thighs, the way Adora could tell that _she_ was similarly affected, could smell _her_ arousal thicker in the air every time. 

She used to dream about the feedings, about reaching her hand down between those tempting thighs, wonder how much lovelier that blood might taste with the racing heartbeat of overwhelming ecstasy pushing it into her mouth, imagine the sounds of pain and pleasure mixing together as she lost herself further in her instincts, letting every fade away but the _hunger_ she felt for this beautiful creature. 

She can almost smell _her_ now, not the rich scent of blood but the warm, earthy aroma of fur and skin and sweat, the one that lingered on the clothes she stuffed under her pillow to help her through her earliest teethings, the one that never fails to make her feel—

_Shit._

Her fangs _clink_ painfully against the glass in her hand and she slaps a hand over her mouth to try and hide them. _Shit shit shit._ Getting a little "long in the tooth" (as Mara likes to call it) isn't that unusual when she's been going without for as long as she has, but she should be able to control it, keep it down to nothing more than a slightly unusual pair of canines, not have them poking out over her bottom lip like this and _aching_ to find some willing flesh to sink into. 

"Oh! Are you alright?" Exclaims a sweet voice and Adora turns with her hand still over her mouth to see a tall, blonde girl with tan skin and freckles looking at her with concern. 

"M fine," Adora mutters, trying to ignore the _throb_ in her fangs. _Why did it have to be a pretty girl?_

Said pretty girl reaches out a comforting hand to stroke Adora's arm. "It's okay if you need some… _help_ ," she says, low and inviting. Adora can feel her fangs pushing out another half-centimeter. "Not my first time helping out a handsome girl with a _toothache,_ " she says, pulling down the collar of her loose top and letting it hang off of one shoulder, exposing a neck with a handful of faded puncture marks. 

_Great, a fangbanger,_ Adora thinks, trying to ignore how she can _feel_ the blood rushing under the girl's fingertips where they press against her skin. Just because she knows that a sip of the wrong kind of blood will send her into a series of life-threatening seizures doesn't mean her body does. "That's very kind of you," she says, taking care to try and enunciate her words around the fangs poking out of her mouth. "But I have an allergy. I can only drink synthetic," she says, almost truthfully. _Synthetic and one other kind._

The girl's face switches from flirtatious to genuinely concerned and she withdraws her hand. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" She says. "Is there anything I can do to help? Do you, uh, need a chew toy or anything?" 

Adora's about to snap something rather rude in response to that but, well… the girl is being so completely earnest and yeah, a chew toy would actually help a _lot_ right now. Adora nods, embarrassed, and the girl digs around in her purse for a moment before producing a rubber chew toy, shaped like a cat. She doesn't bother asking _why_ this strange girl is carrying a chew toy in her purse to go out drinking, thinks she probably prefers not to know, and snatches the rubber cat and bites down _hard_ on it. Her fangs are long enough to sink more than halfway through the toy and she feels a wave of _relief_ so intense that she can't help but close her eyes and groan. 

Chew-toy girl is watching her, face flushed with unmistakable arousal. Adora tries to sheepishly return the rubber toy but the freckled girl shakes her head. "Keep it," she insists. "I think you probably need it more than I do." Reluctantly, the blonde leaves Adora with a kiss on the cheek and a "good luck with your uh, problem," and vanishes into the darkness of the club. 

Adora settles her tab as quickly as possible and stumbles towards the exit, wincing at the exorbitant surge pricing for a ride share at this time of night. There's nothing for it, though, not if she wants to keep herself from biting down on the next pretty girl who offers up her neck. The urge to feed is getting worse every second, the sound of hundreds of rushing heartbeats pounding in her ears, the ache in her fangs growing deep and unbearable even with the rubber toy to offer some relief, and the scent of _her_ —

_Oh._

_Oh, fuck._

_Catra's here._

* * *

Catra's bored, drunk, and horny. Which is honestly pretty typical for a Friday night but if she was at home at least the drinks would be cheaper and she could give herself a few unsatisfying orgrams with her vibrator until she fell asleep, instead of paying $15 for the privilege of a poorly mixed drink and the sleazy bartender grabbing an eyeful while she waited. 

Ever since Catra turned down Scorpia ( _politely_ , or at least she hopes) the woman has made it her personal mission to get Catra laid. Which is... sweet, in its own way, if a little uncomfortable. Sex with some stranger at a bar doesn't really appeal to Catra. She's horny, yes, frustrated, but experience has taught her that clumsy, unfulfilling sex only makes the problem worse. She's tried plenty of times but none of the women she's been with have been able to give her what she needs, been able to make her feel like she's burning alive in the _best_ possible way, leave her feeling weak and helpless and strung out on the sensation, nobody since–

That's the thing Catra hates most about vampires. Not the weird pointy teeth (hers are pointy, too, but at least they're always the same size) or the creepy, slow pulse or the way their eyes are _annoyingly_ hard to look away from. It's the way they _ruin_ you for anyone else. Catra's tried, God _knows_ she's tried, but no combination of sex or drugs has ever come close to the feeling of fangs piercing her skin and a clumsy, jean-clad thigh jammed between her legs. 

So yeah, Catra's not really onboard with Operation: One Night Stand, even if she appreciates the thought. She's spent the night so far huddled in a dark corner booth, getting increasingly drunk and pretending to scan the room for potential partners while actually trying to find someone who looks like they might be good to keep Scorpia off her back for a while. 

She spots a likely candidate in a tall, blonde girl with curly hair and a loose blouse hanging off one shoulder. She's pretty enough, and looks like the kind of overly sweet peace-and-love type that Scorpia gets along with, so she elbows Scorpia and points her out. 

"Oh wow, yeah," Scorpia says, "you should definitely go talk to her." 

Catra rolls her eyes. "Not _me,_ dumbass, I meant you."

Scorpia blushes. "Me? Oh jeez, wildcat, I don't know, she's so, so _pretty._ " 

"C'mon Scorp, she's been eyeing you up all night. She's practically gagging for it."

"Oh gosh, _really?_ "

Well. Not _exactly,_ the girl had glanced towards their table a few times but they were so shrouded in darkness Catra doubts she was looking at much of anything. But Catra _did_ catch her feeling up some blonde girl's muscles at the bar a few minutes ago, so Scorpia should stand a decent chance. 

"Yeah," she says, slapping her friend on the back. "You can do this, buddy. Go get her." 

Scorpia gives her a broad grin and Catra feels just the _tiniest_ twinge of guilt at her deception. It's for Scorpia's own good, she rationalizes, the woman has zero confidence in her ability to attract women despite the fact that she could probably bench a pickup truck if she put her mind to it. 

With Scorpia off on her grand flirting adventure, Catra's left alone with her drink and her thoughts, which is how she tells herself she prefers it. As much as she loves Scorpia, she just isn't in the mood to deal with her friend right now. She's had a _weird_ feeling ever since they showed up at the club tonight and as she gets drunk it's only getting _weirder_. Magikats are unusual creatures in a number of respects, not least of which is the way they blend the vicious instincts of a predator with the paranoid hypervigilance of prey. Catra's learned to trust both those instincts, has relied on them to keep her alive more than once before, but right now she has _no_ idea what they're trying to tell her.

There's something dangerous in this bar, an apex predator, something that's setting off alarm bells all over her body and screaming for her to _run_ or at the very least _hide._ It's why she's huddled in a dark, inconspicuous corner with her back to the wall. But another part of her is telling her to _seek out_ the source of that danger, to _challenge_ it, itching to confront and conquer and claim, whispering at her that she's in control here, that this _thing,_ whatever it is, is more scared of her than she is of it. 

Whatever part of her this is, it's reckless and stupid and she definitely shouldn't listen to it. It's also getting louder. 

A flash of blonde stumbles by her table and something in Catra's blood is _singing,_ urging her to run after it and wrestle this bizarre creature to the ground, force it to acknowledge her strength and superiority. Her claws flick in and out, scratching shallow grooves in the table. Her self-control is crumbling under the twin assaults of alcohol and this wild, inexplicable urge, and she finds herself leaping from her chair and following her quarry through the club, out the exit and into the dark, brick-lined alley behind the building.

 _Perfect place for an ambush,_ two parts of her whisper, one in panic and the other in cruel delight as she crouches down to pounce on the blonde ponytail swinging back and forth in front of her. She springs into the air, claws out, surprised when her prey turns around at the last second before she lands and–

_Oh no._

_Oh fuck._

_Shit fuck fuck shit shit shit fucking fucker shit._

Catra collides with Adora, sending the sturdier girl toppling over and pinning her to the ground. With her hands safely restraining Adora's wrists there's nothing to hide the way her fangs are jutting out over her lower lip, longer than Catra ever remembers seeing them. 

_She must be so thirsty,_ Catra thinks, tail flicking back and forth. Her eyes wander up Adora's face before she can stop herself, locking on to those unnaturally bright blue eyes. _Fuck._ She's really in trouble now. Once you meet a vampire's gaze it takes a massive expenditure of willpower to look away again, willpower that Catra absolutely does not possess right now. As annoyed as she is, as _angry_ as she is, she can't help the effect those eyes have on her. Her breathing slows, muscles relaxing, a strange sense of calm bleeding through her. She should be running, should be trying to cut this fucking _monster_ underneath her to ribbons, should be doing absolutely anything other than what she is, which is staring into Adora's eyes and, god _fucking_ dammit, purring. 

"Hey, Adora," she whispers, with not nearly as much venom as she intends. 

"Catra," Adora replies, sounding breathless and needy and, yep, _just_ as thirsty as Catra imagined. 

Catra hates how _badly_ part of her wants to fix that. Wants to bare her neck and let Adora sate herself, take what she needs from Catra's veins. _She's so thirsty,_ Catra thinks again. It's all she can think, that need pouring out of Adora's eyes and sinking into hers until it feels like her own, until the satisfaction of Adora's desires crowds out Catra's own concerns and her mind is overwhelmed with a chorus of _give, give, give._

Adora turns away, breaks eye contact and the spell is broken. Catra blinks thickly until her head clears and the anger boils back up inside her. "You _bitch,_ " she hisses, tightening her grip on Adora's wrists. 

"I'm sorry," Adora says, "I forgot about– I didn't realize–" she sputters to a halt, realizing exactly where she is and what's happening. "Wait, you're the one who attacked _me,_ what the _fuck_ , Catra?!" 

Catra bares her teeth, unwilling to let go of her righteous fury this easily. "After what you did to me? As far as I'm concerned I could tear your pretty face to shreds and be _well_ within my rights." 

She realizes too late that she said "pretty". 

"I'm _sorry,_ Catra," Adora says softly. "What else did you want me to do? I was a kid, I would have _died_ without–" 

"That's not what I meant!" Catra snaps, surprising herself. Because, it's what she thought she meant. What she told herself she was angry about, this whole time. She lets go of Adora's wrists, sits up and pulls her face away from Adora's but leaves the vampire pinned to the ground by Catra's weight on her hips. 

Adora sits up too and Catra's suddenly, uncomfortably conscious that she's essentially sitting in the other girl's lap. Adora reaches out a hand to brush her cheek but she slaps it away, hissing. "If it's not about… that," Adora asks, "then what is it about?" 

Catra wants to pull away again, to stand up and plant a kick right on Adora's stupid face, knock those fucking fangs right out of her mouth and leave here to starve in the dirt. She doesn't. "It doesn't matter. Why should you care? It's not like you ever cared about my feelings before." 

"Catra, you know that's not true. I, I always cared about you. I did what I had to to keep myself alive but that doesn't mean I was _happy_ about it." 

Catra snorts. She knows _that_ is bullshit. "Yeah, like you weren't getting off on it every time since we turned sixteen."

Adora pauses, and says very quietly, "I thought that… I thought you liked it too." 

"Then why did you fucking _leave me?_ " Catra shouts, shoving Adora back down by the shoulders. She keeps her pinned down again, growling in her face, focusing on the ground next to her head instead of her eyes. "Why did you fuck off and abandon me as soon as you found another pet Magikat to feed from?" She hears Adora inhale sharply and her ear flicks towards the sound.

"Is that what you think happened?"

Catra sits back up and folds her arms across her chest. This time, Adora stays down. "I'm not stupid, Adora. If you left that meant you had another way to feed. Besides," she gestures, not meeting Adora's gaze, "you're clearly not dead right now." 

"You're right that I found another way," Adora says. "But it's not another Magikat." Adora sits up and Catra shoves her back down. She just sits up again, though, and Catra realizes that trying to outlast Adora in a game of abdominal strength is a losing proposition. "I met a researcher, a woman named Mara. She figured out a way to treat human blood, make it safe for me to drink. She's been keeping me supplied ever since."

Catra's tail swishes back and forth, brushing over Adora's knees. "So it's not another Magikat. Big deal." It _is_ a big deal, for some reason, to some part of Catra that's been wondering who this mystery person is, whether she's prettier, stronger, _tastes better_ than Catra. "You still abandoned me as soon as you didn't need me anymore." 

"I'm sorry," Adora says. "I thought… if I wasn't around, if Shadow Weaver didn't need you, she'd let you go free. Then I could come find you and we could live out here together and I wouldn't need to keep… using you. But when I came back for you, there was nothing left. You disappeared."

 _She came back for me,_ part of Catra whispers with excitement, but the part of her that really wants to keep being angry at Adora tells it to shut the fuck up. "Yeah, you dumbass. I don't know what kind of person you _think_ Shadow Weaver was but without you in the picture she didn't just _let me go._ She tried to _dispose_ of me." 

Adora sucks in a horrified breath. "She–" 

"She _tried._ " Catra grins wide, showing off her own set of fangs. "Turns out when I'm not constantly anemic I'm more than a match for a crusty old bitch like her." She flicks her claws out, studies them with an air of practiced casualness. "I took care of her." 

Her eyes flick over to Adora's mouth in time to watch her fangs grow ever so slightly longer. 

" _Jesus,_ Adora, did that really just _turn you on?"_ Catra can't help laughing. 

"Shut up," Adora mutters, her fangs making it difficult to speak. 

"The idea of me kicking Shadow Weaver's ass gets you going, huh?"

Adora lets out an embarrassed groan. "It doesn't have anything to do with Sh– with her. It's just… I always knew you were strong, but _this…_ " 

Catra can imagine how Adora's eyes look right now. The way her pupils must be dilating, the mix of shame and desire she must be feeling. Catra really, _really_ wants to look. 

She doesn't. "Thinking how I could kick your ass, princess?"

Adora laughs. "As if. Shadow Weaver might be one thing but, come on." 

"I'm not the one who got pinned to the ground just now, _Adora._ " 

"Only because I _let you,_ " Adora huffs. "If I wanted you up against the wall right now, you'd be there." 

Catra licks her lips. She's about to do something very stupid. She's about to something truly, monumentally, impossibly stupid, and she _doesn't care._

She looks Adora in the eyes.

"Prove it."

* * *

  
Adora's _strong._ She's always known that. Beyond the preternatural strength she possesses as a vampire, she's always worked hard to hone her body, always wanting to be stronger. She didn't realize how immensely _satisfying_ it would be to finally exercise that strength, use it to assert her will on another person. To pick Catra up by the shoulders like she weighs nothing and press her up against the alley's brick wall. 

Adora's losing control of herself. She's hungry, sure, but not _this_ hungry, not enough to justify how absolutely feral she feels right now, how much she _needs_ her first and favorite meal. Catra whimpers and Adora can feel her relaxing in her arms, tilting her head to the side to expose her neck while maintaining steady eye contact, inviting Adora to–

_Shit._

She finally notices the faint tinge of blue creeping around the edges of Catra's yellow iris and immediately tears her gaze away. _Goddammit._ She hates this, the way she can never trust that anyone around her is really in control of themselves and not just under the influence of her eyes. 

_Shit shit shit._

She's expecting Catra to hiss at her again, call her a bitch, claw her eyes out, but instead she feels a single, soft finger under her chin, guiding her back to meet Catra's eyes. 

She lets herself be led, sees the tiny shiver of pleasure that rolls through the Magikat's body when their eyes finally connect. "Adora," she whispers, sliding her hand to the back of the vampire's head and pulling her in closer, not towards an exposed neck but to her waiting lips.

"Catra." She should be stopping herself. Needs to be stopping herself, _now,_ or preferably about five minutes ago, but her discipline is rapidly crumbling into the deep, burning abyss inside her that _needs_ this woman's blood. "If, if I kiss you," she murmurs against Catra's soft lips, "I won't be able to keep myself from bit–" 

She's interrupted by her phone chiming from her pocket, headlights briefly bursting into the alleyway as her rideshare pulls up to the front of the club. She sets Catra back down and finds the strength to step away. "That's uh. That's my ride." She's not looking at Catra, she can't look at her right now. 

She feels Catra behind her, Catra's breath ghosting against her neck and then– _fuck,_ Catra's canines sinking into Adora's neck, biting down _hard_ and making her whimper and roll her hips against empty air. 

"There," Catra breaths against her ear, smug. "Now I owe you one." 

"I, uh," Adora desperately tries to find some words that have managed to hang on inside her brain. She reaches down to find Catra's hand with her own, grasps it, holds on tight without turning to look at her. "Come home with me?" She blurts out gracelessly. 

"Mmm…" Catra rests her head on Adora's shoulder and sighs. "I thought you'd never ask." 

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you know how I'm writing this to take a break from the emotional strain of my main fic about guilt and childhood trauma? Well oops I accidentally added some guilt and childhood trauma.
> 
> Some very light angst in this chapter, mostly hurt/comfort and whoops somehow I managed to make Adora a sub even she's a literal vampire.
> 
> A few content warnings here, obviously blood is a big one but there's also medical stuff related to seizures and some stuff about Adora avoiding drinking blood that may be similar to eating disorders and triggering.

Adora knows a thing or two about the geography of Hell, and she's fairly certain she's found a secret Tenth Circle of it in the back of this 2009 Honda Civic, barely a foot away from the most enticing woman in the world and unable to do a thing about it.

She's far gone enough that if this were just a regular hook-up she'd say propriety be damned and drag Catra into her lap, throwing social convention and her strict adherence to seatbelt safety to the wind in pursuit of pleasure. The only thing keeping her in check right now is the thought that if this driver catches her biting into Catra's carotid artery in the backseat there's probably going to be a serious car accident on the highway tonight. 

"Doing okay there, princess?" 

Adora realizes she's been staring at Catra's neck, the hand she's kept clamped over her mouth falling away to let her lick absentmindedly at her fangs. She covers her mouth again, feeling her face begin to heat up.

"Are you _blushing?_ " Catra asks, teasingly. "I didn't even know bloodsuckers could _do_ that." 

"Please don't call me that," Adora grumbles. "And we can, yeah. It doesn't come that easily, but… yeah." 

Catra leans over just a bit, grinning. "Awww, poor wittle bloodsucker must be _so_ worked up," she coos. 

"I said don't call me that!" Adora snaps. Catra shrinks back, pulls away towards the window and Adora immediately resents the extra few inches of distance. "I don't like that word. It makes me sound like some kind of–"

"Parasite?" Catra interrupts, voice gone hard and cold with anger again. "Like something that drains the life out of another person, leaves them feeling weak and sick, something that needs to hurt people to live? Something like that? _Gee, I wonder why?_ " 

"I don't hurt anyone anymore. Everything I drink is donated _willingly_. I'm not a monster, Catra." 

"Well that's great for _them_ ," Catra says. "I'm so glad you don't hurt people _anymore._ Wish you figured that trick out a little sooner." 

"You think I didn't see how much it hurt you? You think I didn't notice?" Adora's desperately trying to keep her fists from shaking. "You think I _liked_ watching my best friend hurt, knowing it was _my_ fault, knowing that if I didn't exist, if I could just… go away, somehow, it would stop?" Catra won't look at her which, fair, but it still makes Adora's blood boil to see the way she stares out the window like she's not even _listening._ "Why do you think I jumped at the chance to try Mara's solution? Do you have any idea what a huge risk I was taking? If _anything_ had gone wrong–"

"Oh my god you are so _dramatic,_ " Catra hisses. "You have to go without your favorite flavor for a day, boo fucking hoo." 

" _Fuck you,_ Catra! You have _no idea–"_

" _I'm_ the one who has no idea? That's fucking rich, _bloodsucker,_ " 

"I told you not to–"

The driver clears their throat, loudly. "Ladies? We're here."

Neither of them had even noticed the car stop moving. They clamber out of the car in silence and watch as it drives away. Adora groans miserably. "I need to leave them a really big tip," she mutters. 

Catra stands quietly with her arms wrapped around herself. She isn't leaving.

Adora sighs, leans back against the door to her apartment. "If you really hate me that much," she asks, "why did you want to come home with me?" 

Catra looks down, kicks viciously at a small rock that appears to have wronged her somehow. "I don't have to explain myself to you." 

Adora can't keep herself from laughing. Some things don't change. She opens the door. "You coming in?"

Catra looks up, raises an eyebrow. "Seriously?" 

Adora just shrugs, and it's Catra's turn to laugh. "You are such a horny idiot," she says, stepping inside the apartment. 

Adora doesn't contradict her.

* * *

So. This is weird. 

It was already _weird,_ seeing Adora, being trapped in the back of a car with Adora's strange predator/prey scent, but being invited into Adora's apartment right after screaming at her and calling her a parasite?

About as weird as it gets. 

She feels _guilty_ about what she said, which is stupid. She shouldn't have to feel guilty about Adora. Adora's the one who hurt her. 

She's not mad at Adora for how they grew up. She knows Adora didn't have a choice, not really. But she's not really mad at Adora for leaving, either, now that she knows it wasn't because she found someone else. She's just. Mad. Being mad at Adora is comforting. It's normal. She's been mad at Adora for years now and she's just used to it.

And now she's in Adora's apartment, about to let the woman she's resented for feeding on her their entire lives… feed on her again. 

Yeah. Weird.

Catra's tail lashes back and forth. She doesn't know where to stand, if she should sit down. Doesn't know what to do with herself as she watches Adora take off her shoes and hang up her jacket. 

"What was it?" Catra asks, softly.

Adora stops in the middle of putting back the coat hanger. "What was what?"

Catra looks back at the floor. She feels… small. Terrible, really. Like maybe she should apologize. "What do I have no idea about?"

That's as close as she's gonna get. 

She hears Adora let out a long sigh. "It's uh. It's not important." 

Catra bristles, claws flexing. "It _obviously_ is. So just, tell me or whatever, and then I can have _an idea_ about it and we can be done with all the bullshit, okay?" 

She can hear Adora sit down somewhere off to her right. She's still busy counting carpet fibers by her feet.

"I, uh. I tried not to drink from you. A lot. Shadow Weaver kept trying to get me to go once, twice a week. Kept telling me I was being ungrateful. That she worked so hard to… get you. But I saw how sick you were getting so I, I wouldn't. I'd wait as long as I could. Sometimes until I got so weak I couldn't stand and they had to carry me to your room."

Catra remembers, remembers times when Adora would practically collapse into bed with her after a long absence, pale and shivering, and Catra would wrap herself around her, do her best to warm her up. It was different, on days like that. Adora's fangs weren't hot and fierce and desperate, but slow and quiet and _needy._ She remembers the way Adora would latch onto her shoulder and let her whole body relax as Catra stroked her hair, practically suckling at Catra's neck until she found the strength to stand again. 

"And then there was another time, when I thought, how bad could it really be? They always told me I was allergic but, well, if it was just a bad rash or some swelling or getting a little sick or something, it'd be worth it. Even if it was really bad, maybe I could give you a break sometimes. Enough time to get better." 

Catra shivers, her own words ringing harsh in her ears. _You have to go a day without your favorite food, boo fucking hoo._

She wants to tell Adora to stop, to not tell her what happened, but she doesn't. She needs to hear this.

"I stole a pack of human stuff from Shadow Weaver and it, uh. It gave me seizures. Really bad ones, I uh, that's where the scar on my chin comes from. Smacked myself against the bed frame while I was… yeah." It's already too much, already a nightmare to imagine Adora like that because she was worried about hurting her, but Catra can tell it's not over. 

"And then I had a stroke. Bleeding, in the brain. More or less, not exactly how it would happen with a human but. Pretty bad. Obviously I made it in the end, no worse for the wear. Mostly." 

It's the " _mostly"_ that breaks her. The fact that even now Adora is still trying to minimize her pain, what she went through, still trying to make it sound like she didn't really get hurt. _Doesn't she know that's my job?_ Catra looks up finally, sees Adora sitting on the couch and stalks over to her, sits down in her lap and buries her head in Adora's shoulder. "What do you mean, mostly?" She whispers.

"It's nothing–"

" _Tell me._ "

Adora takes a shuddering breath. "I, I can't taste anymore. Anything other than, you know. I mean, normal food never helped me with the hunger, but I used to enjoy it anyway. Now it all just tastes like… nothing." 

Catra wraps her arms around Adora, pulls her in tightly. She feels like crying, but doesn't. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault–"

"I _know._ But what I said in the car was. And I'm sorry. It wasn't fair for either of us. I just. She's not around anymore. It's easier to be mad at you. And that's not fair, either. So I'm sorry, okay? Don't make me say it again." 

Adora lets out the tiniest laugh. "I won't." 

They stay there like that, the desperate urgency of lust and fear and hatred dying down to a few warm embers. Adora begins rubbing small circles on Catra's back with one hand, sliding the other up into her hair. "I like what you've done with your hair," she murmurs, scratching gently at the Magikat's scalp.

Catra purrs and nuzzles her face into Adora's shoulder. They never got a chance to just _be_ like this, growing up. Whenever they were together it was always because Adora needed to feed. Every other moment was carefully supervised, Catra locked up in her totally-not-a-cell and Adora doing… Whatever it was Adora did when she wasn't around. 

But. 

As nice as this is, Catra still wants so much more.

She removes her head from Adora's shoulder, cups the vampire's stupid, beautiful face in her hands and kisses her. Somehow, despite all the intimacy they'd shared, this was something they never did before. It was always Adora's fangs in her neck, Catra gnawing at Adora's fingers to try and cope with the desperate ache between her legs, never just soft lips pressed together. Adora's fangs have receded a little since the car ride, but they're still prominent enough that Catra has to be careful to kiss around them. Not that she doesn't want to be cut open on those fangs, just… not quite yet. 

When she finally pulls away and meets Adora's bright blue eyes, she doesn't fight the wave of warmth and peace that crashes over her, doesn't fight the way Adora's desires meld with hers. It feels _incredible,_ really, just another way to have Adora inside her, those eyes washing away all her worries and fears in an endless wave of perfect blue.

And then Adora ruins it, scrunches her eyes closed and turns her face away. "Don't look at me," she says. 

"You're not _that_ ugly, princess," Catra needles her, a little annoyed at losing all that blue. Adora doesn't laugh, though, just keeps her face turned away like she's terrified of what might happen if their eyes meet again.

"I– I can't let–" she takes a deep breath and starts over. "I have to know this isn't because of… what I am. What I can do. If we're doing this, and I _want_ to do this, I need to know that it's what you want, too. Not just because I have stupid magic brainwashing eyes." 

Catra pokes Adora on her giant, stupid forehead. " _Brainwashing?_ You think pretty highly of yourself there, princess. Think you're so fucking powerful, don't you?"

" _Catra–_ "

"It doesn't work like that. Never has, at least not on me. Even your big dopey puppy dog eyes can't make me do anything I don't want to do. They just make me _want_ a little harder than I already do. And–" Catra stops, suddenly embarrassed. "It feels nice, I guess. I like feeling you inside my head." 

Adora sucks in a breath at that, clearly more than a little excited by the concept as well. But she doesn't turn her face back. Doesn't open her eyes. 

"This really bothers you, huh?"

Adora nods wretchedly, the side of her face scraping against the upholstery of the couch. Catra sighs.

"Okay, hold on a sec. I have an idea. Just, keep your eyes closed."

"Way ahead of you," Adora replies. 

Catra's glad she decided to dress up a bit for her reluctant night on the town. Not only because it means Adora's first good look at her in years comes when she's in one of her best suits, but because it means she's wearing a tie. A tie that she now undoes carefully, folding it over on itself once before wrapping it around Adora's head with the widest part of the tie covering her eyes, and tying it securely around the back. 

"There we go," Catra whispers. "Now you can't 'brainwash' me _or_ see me. Practically a helpless little human." She doesn't miss the way Adora shivers.

"I can still smell you," Adora counters.

Catra leans in close, nuzzles her face against Adora's cheek, her neck practically brushing against the vampire's nose. " _Good._ "

Catra takes a moment to consider the sight in front of her. Adora, the strong, terrifying apex predator Adora, wearing _her_ tie as a blindfold and hands gripping her own knees in mounting sexual frustration. Whenever she fantasized about being with Adora again, and she's not ashamed to admit that's been a _lot,_ she always imagined Adora on top of her, pinning her, using all that strength of hers to just fucking _take_ what she wants. But another idea is starting to coalesce in her head, seeing how fucking desperate, how _needy_ Adora looks right now.

"I have something you want," she whispers, a quiet realization. 

Adora lets out a small, soft noise.

"I have something you _need,_ " Catra growls, grabbing Adora's wrists and pushing them behind the vampire's back with an implicit command to keep them there. "You want my blood, don't you princess? Want to _taste_ it?"

Adora groans and, _fuck,_ Catra can fucking _see_ her fangs extending, pushing out of her mouth once more against those plush, kiss-swollen lips. 

"Well? Use your words, _princess._ "

" _Yes!_ " Adora gasps, her hips rolling. "I want you." 

Catra eyes Adora's fangs. "How long has it been since you last fed?" She asks.

Adora has the sense to look a little sheepish. "Two weeks…" 

Catra almost wants to slap her. "Two weeks? Why? Are you trying to starve yourself or something?" She leaves off the " _again,"_ but they both hear it. 

"No…" Adora murmurs. "I just… didn't wanna drink anymore of that packaged shit. I wanted _you._ " 

Catra's torn between being pissed at Adora's dumb martyr bullshit, starving herself pining after a woman she didn't know she would ever see again, and being _impossibly_ flattered and more than a little turned on at the thought of living rent-free in Adora's head like that. 

She decides that she's a pretty good multi-tasker and can probably manage both.

"Poor girl," she murmurs, stroking her fingertip along one of Adora's sensitive fangs. "You must be _so thirsty_ by now." Adora tries to nip at her finger and Catra pulls it back before pressing it to Adora's forehead and pushing her head back to lay against the couch. "Nuh uh uh. No snacking without permission, baby. You want what I've got, you need to make it worth my while, okay?"

"Whatever you want," Adora gasps. "I'll do anything."

Catra wishes the vampire could see the way she's grinning right now.

She has _so_ many ideas. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise not to let this turn into my main fic or anything I just was in a really vampire mood today and this smutty shit is easier to write when I'm tired then *gestures broadly at That Fic*


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops I added some fluff. Sorry but they love each other. 
> 
> Cw for just. Blood. But you knew that already.

Adora shouldn't be feeling this _helpless._

She's a natural predator, each of her senses sharp enough to let her cut through the night. Vampires don't have night vision. They don't _need_ it. They're perfectly capable of hunting by scent and sound alone.

So why does Adora feel so _lost_ right now, so thoroughly at Catra's mercy just from the loss of her sight? Catra's blood is thrumming hot and fragrant under that warm, dark skin and Adora _needs_ it. She should be able to _take_ it, to sniff out the arteries, listen for the whirring rush of blood skimming through her veins, but she _can't_. She's lost the ability to make such fine distinctions. All she can hear is the roar of Catra's blood pumping. All she can smell is _Catra,_ the scent of her fur and her skin and her sweat and her blood all mixed together into a delicious, indistinct whole. For so many years, some part of her was always quietly seeking out this scent, straining for the smallest hints of it, and now that it's so _close_ and _everywhere_ she's completely overwhelmed, unable to do anything other than just breathe in and let the thirst continue to build inside her.

 _Practically a helpless little human._

"That's right," Catra whispers, "you'll do anything. You _need_ me. Sure you could always go bite into one of your weird little Vampire Capri Suns and that would keep you alive, but that's not good enough for you, is it? You need _more._ You need _me._ " 

Adora can't deny it. Part of her knows that she has an alternative now, takes comfort in that fact, but the overwhelming majority of her mind is screaming that she's going to die if she can't have Catra's blood, _now._

"You want what I have, and I'm the only one who can give it to you," Catra purrs, really _purrs_ in a way that somehow sounds condescending. "Lucky for you, princess, you have something I want, too. So how about we make a little trade?" 

_Anything._ Adora's ready to give anything. 

Her instincts are crying out that she should just _take_ what she wants, that she shouldn't be letting her prey boss her around like this, but… it feels so _good_ to let Catra control her when she's no longer capable of controlling herself. To finally, after years and years of feeling sick with guilt, do this on _Catra's_ terms. 

Or maybe she's just trying to rationalize how much of a bottom bitch she's being for Catra right now.

"What do you want?" She asks, hoarsely, struggling to keep her hands safely behind her back where Catra placed them. 

She feels a soft hand on her cheek. " _You,_ Adora. Do you have any idea how frustrated I've been? For _years,_ getting to be so close to you so much but never getting to really _have_ you? And then," a note of softness creeps into Catra's voice, "missing you? For so long?" She rallies admirably, rolls her hips in Adora's lap, practically grinding on her abs. "You want my blood? You're going to have to _fuck_ me first, and you better do it _right_ or I'm going to make you fuck me _again_ and again until I'm satisfied before I give you a _drop_ of my blood." She leans in again and bites down on Adora's neck, giving her another bite mark to match the one from the alley. "Understood?" 

Adora groans. As far as prices go this is one she's happy to pay. " _Yes."_

Catra slides her lips up a few inches, bites down again. _I'm going to have more marks on my neck than she will._ Catra's lips graze against Adora's ear. "I think you can ask a little _nicer,_ baby." 

_God,_ why does Catra have to say it like _that?_ Does she have any clue what that word is doing to Adora right now? How it's making her _hope_ for even more than she's getting now, which is already so much more than she deserves? 

" _Please,_ " Adora whines, "Please let me fuck you. Let me make you come. I want to." 

" _Good_ girl, Adora. That's what I like to hear. You're such a good pet for me," Catra teases, slipping her hand into Adora's and lacing their fingers together.

Okay, that was _too_ far, even with Adora feeling this desperate. She's a _vampire,_ goddammit, even when she's whining and begging for Catra's blood she deserves at least _some_ dignity. " _Fuck_ you Catra I'm not your–" Her indignant reply is cut off by two of Catra's fingers sliding into her mouth, right between her fangs, curling down and stroking softly along her tongue. The blood is so close to the surface there: racing under Catra's skin in a beautiful network of capillaries, rich and fragrant and flush in the soft tissue sheathing her claws. Adora _wants_ it, wants to bite down and open the skin, lap at Catra's fingers for even a small drop, but she can't bring her fangs to bear at this angle. She prays for mercy, hoping that Catra will prick the pad of her finger against the tip of her fangs and give her just a _taste_ of what she so desperately needs, just the smallest taste, she'll do _anything_ for it, absolutely anything if Catra will just–

"Is that so?" Catra coos, interrupting Adora's mental symphony of _want._ "Because it seems to me that you're the one who's licking my fingers like an animal, ready to sit, stay, and roll over, anything I command, all to get your _treat._ " Catra _presses_ down on her tongue again and Adora makes a high-pitched, _humiliating_ noise. "Not to mention _whining_ for me so, _so_ sweetly." 

Catra rubs her thumb in a soft circle over the back of Adora's hand. "There's no shame in being a pet, Adora," she whispers, voice low and even and full of _something_ that Adora can't name but _God,_ she wants more of it. "You get to be taken care of. Provided for. You get to be useful, _needed_ , even." Catra slowly pulls her fingers out of Adora's mouth, wipes them clean against her cheek in what ought to be a thoroughly degrading gesture but is just so _gentle_ that it makes Adora's heart want to break. She presses a soft, slow kiss to Adora's forehead. "You get to be _loved._ " 

Adora's traitorous heart once again surges with warm, impossible hope. " _Catra…_ " she whispers, unsure what she even means to say but savoring the way it feels in her mouth. 

"Tell me, Adora," Catra says. "Tell me what you are."

Adora squeezes Catra's hand in hers. "I'm your pet," she says, letting the final shreds of pride slip between her fingers and tumbling into complete submission.

Catra's there to catch her, patting her on the cheek and correcting her gently. "My _beloved_ pet." And then, almost too softly even for Adora's unnatural senses: "don't forget it." 

Adora feels warm, peaceful. The edge of her want has dulled somewhat, still ever present and pounding away at her thoughts, but it's more of an _ache,_ now, almost sweet in the way it fills her up. She can be patient, take her time to _earn_ her satisfaction properly. She _wants_ to. 

" _Please,_ " she repeats, softer. "Let me fuck you?" 

She wishes she could see Catra's eyes right now, see if they're as warm and full of affection as she hopes, but she doubts she could keep her gaze under control, not when she's like this. Maybe if she practiced. She should really think about practicing. 

"Well," Catra says, the tiniest tremor in her voice betraying a hint of– nerves? Excitement? _Desire?_ "Since you asked _so_ nicely." Catra moves their linked hands down between her legs, fumbles with the button of her trousers with her other hand until she can guide Adora's finger under the waistband of her underwear to–

_Oh._

Adora's never _touched_ like this before, the sum total of her prior sexual experience limited to awkward, clothed grinding. She's never felt someone else's _heat_ under her fingers like this, never felt the way their pulse _twitches_ down here, never felt just how _soft_ and _wet_ someone—no, not just someone but _Catra_ —can be. 

It feels unreal, impossible, the way her fingers skate over the flesh with barely any friction. "Do you feel that?" Catra murmurs, pressing Adora's palm against her labia and jerking her hips almost imperceptibly. "That's what you do to me. I, _ah,_ I always get like this when I'm thinking about you." 

She thinks about Catra, alone, touching herself like this and thinking about _her._ She can't help but think Catra could do a better job of this herself. Adora has next to no idea how to do this, her fingers feel too-thick and clumsy against the delicate slickness of Catra's body, the angle of her wrist is awkward and it's not like she can see what she's doing. The scent of Catra's arousal is thick in her nostrils and making her dizzy, she can't focus enough for any movement more complex than clumsily rubbing her hand against Catra's vulva and pressing the heel of her palm against her clit. Catra doesn't seem to mind, though, if the increasing flood of arousal soaking Adora's wrist and the sounds she's making are anything to go by. 

Those _sounds_ are currently writing themselves directly into Adora's memory, to be taken out carefully and cherished night after night for the rest of her life. Every single one is a magnum opus, from the way Catra's breath stutters when one of Adora's fingertips slips near her entrance, to the loud, unashamed moans when Adora puts the right amount of pressure on her clit, to the dozens of different variations on " _Adora_ " that seem to happen for no reason at all.

It's those last sounds that Adora loves most of all, because they're proof that this isn't just Catra using her as a convenient way to get off. _Adora_ is the one touching her like this, making her make those beautiful noises. _Adora_ is the one responsible for this beautiful wetness between Catra's legs.

Adora is fucking Catra. 

The realization, as obvious as it seems, leaves Adora short of breath. Years of fantasies, of desires she only half-understood, strange and exciting and frightening and all tangled up in guilt, and somehow she's ended up here, with Catra straddling her lap, Catra being so _sweet_ to her, Catra _wanting_ her and comforting her and inviting her to slip past her defenses and _touch_ her, trusting Adora with her most vulnerable self, trusting her to bring her pleasure. She hears another strangled " _Adora"_ from above her and she knows her realization before wasn't quite correct.

She's _making love_ to Catra.

Maybe Catra doesn't feel the same way ( _or maybe she does_ , sings her heart) but there is no question in her mind now that every motion, every slip and slide and press of her fingers against Catra is driven by _love._ She loves Catra, has always loved Catra, just didn't know the word for it when they were together and had no use for it when they were apart. It's only now, armed with something like an understanding of the ways two people can want each other _and_ with Catra here, so close and warm and sweet and soft and _beautiful,_ as beautiful as any of nature's wonders, she knows, even if she can't see her right now, only now that she can match the feeling to the word and say to herself _I love Catra. I love her._

The thought doesn't go away, not when Catra begins gasping and spasming above her, twitching and crying her name. _I love her I love her I love her I love her._ It's only when Catra grabs a fistful of Adora's hair and pulls her head against her soft, burning neck that other thoughts begin to crowd out the chorus of her heart. "Bite me," Cares growls and Adora can't _possibly_ say no. 

The moment Adora's fangs break through her skin Catra goes rigid and _screams_ in pleasure, her heart hammering and spilling blood into Adora's ready mouth and–

Adora hasn't tasted anything other than syrupy, plastic-tinged blood in so many years. There's no way she could have prepared herself for the flavors coating her tongue, the way the sheer _intensity_ of the taste seems to send colors bursting behind her eyelids, the way it seems to be almost _boiling_ in her mouth, hot and wet and burning and sending a surge of heat, of _pleasure_ throughout her entire body. It's ecstasy, in the biblical sense, a communion with the closest thing Adora knows to divinity, it's water after a thousand guilty miles through the desert, it's impossible, subtle complexity and raw, animal simplicity. It's poetry, hot and wet and sanguine in her mouth. 

And then, with another sharp tug of Catra's hand in her hair, it's gone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry it's definitely not over yet.


End file.
